


What Happens in the Hot Tub

by HeartOfTheMirror



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cryofreeze (Marvel), Identity Issues, M/M, Mind Control, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Steve is determined to make Bucky happy, Suicidal Thoughts, Wakanda, in every possible way, moody Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 07:29:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8277734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartOfTheMirror/pseuds/HeartOfTheMirror
Summary: Steve wants to make Bucky happy. He's done more difficult things, right?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Bohmienne and SuperHeroResin and the entire StuckyBB2016 chat.

Bucky thought about killing himself all the time. At least once an hour, every hour that he was awake, and sometimes even in his dreams he stood atop the Brooklyn Bridge and smiled for the first time since 1942 and he let that cold blue-gray water rush up to meet him. Not that a swan dive off the Brooklyn Bridge would actually kill him. 

It wasn’t that Bucky was depressed. No, of course not. He’d have to feel something to be depressed. And really he was just a transparency of the Bucky Barnes that was; not nearly enough left for anything as opaque as feelings. He was the resin cast of Bucky Barnes, the ghost of the winter soldier. Just a film those two men had left behind.

He was a snakeskin ready to be blown away by the breeze. A perfectly preserved negative, the outline of a sole in the snow. Just waiting for more drift to come and cover him over and bury him forever.

God, Bucky just wanted to stop existing. That was all he wanted, if he even knew how to want anymore.

Steve stood in the doorway, leaning against the the threshold with his hands in his pockets the way he did when he was nervous. Even hunched in on himself and looking up bashfully through his eyelashes he still took up the entire frame. 

“So what are you gonna do now?” Steve asked. Bucky fought the urge to scoff and roll his eyes. An instinct left over from generations of Buckys who had come before him.

“I’m not really free you know,” Bucky said, staring at his thumb as it smoothed over the soft knee of his white Wakandan pants. “Neither are you,” he added, flicking his eyes up to Steve’s stormy face and then back to his thumb.

“No one can control you anymore, Buck,” Steve said slowly. “I could shout those words a hundred times over. You’d still be your own man. So what do you want to do next?”

“Honestly?” Bucky said, “I just want to fuck you and then eat an ice cream sandwich and smoke a fucking unfiltered cigarette. In a hot tub. But that’s not what’s gonna happen. 

“What’s gonna happen is that you and I are gonna gear up and reign armageddon down on the fucking pieces of shit that did this to us. And I’ll probably die in the process. Again. And you’ll march heroically on. 

“So fuck you. Fuck you, Steve. You think it matters what I want? When has that ever mattered?!” Bucky shouted gesturing around himself as if inviting Steve to search the room for clues. “In the fucking depression when I had to drop out of eighth grade so I could feed my fucking family? In the war when I got fucking tortured and experimented on and turned into some kind of shattered coward piece of shit? In all those years when I was Hydra’s junkyard dog just dancing for a fucking treat? You tell me Steve, you tell me when I’ve ever had a fucking choice.”

“So you want to fuck me in a hot tub?” Steve said, filtering through the pertinent information and completely ignoring everything else. “I can make that happen. “Not sure about the cigs and ice cream sandwiches though. Pretty exotic stuff for Wakanda. I mean I’ve seen ice cream but I don’t know about ice cream sandwiches. I’ve been told the local food scene has been getting more and more diverse in the past decade but it’s still pretty…. Wakandan.”

“Really?” Bucky asked sarcastically. “Captain stand-his-ground is really gonna tip toe around this like it doesn’t fucking exist?”

“So were you thinking anal sex or oral?” Steve asked. “Because we’ve pretty much figured out that I can hold my breath for a really long time.”

“Anal, obviously,” Bucky sighed, giving in to Steve like he always did.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always welcome.


End file.
